Married to the Military

Thousands of American women are living with fear, uncertainty, and unwavering pride as their constant companions while they wait for their husbands to return safely from the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan. It's a lonely road to walk, but there are many making the same journey.

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War comes and goes from newspaper headlines, but it's a heavy constant in all military families' lives. This September, General David Petraeus, who oversees the 160,000 U.S. troops in Iraq, will give Congress a progress report on the situation there and on American efforts to stabilize the country. And as politicians start new rounds of debate on the war, soldiers' families will carry on, as they always have. Here, the human stories behind the horror and the heroes.

"The first thing I do every morning is check my computer to see if anything happened overnight."

DENISE DAVILA, 31

EAGLE RIVER, AK

My husband, Roy, 34, serves with a parachute infantry regiment with the 25th Infantry Division based at Fort Richardson, AK. Roy joined the Army in 2003, and left for his third deployment to Iraq in October 2006; his battalion has lost almost 40 men so far.

We had a good life in Texas before we joined the military. We'd been married for a year and were raising my daughters: Taylor, who's 13 now, and Shelby, 11. Roy was a police officer, and of course I worried about him—the difference was, he'd call 10 to 20 times a day to tell me he was okay. Now, it can be two to three days before I know he's back from patrol.

When we moved here about two years ago, they didn't have military housing for us, so we live about eight miles from the base. We like that we have a more normal lifestyle in the community we live in. The kids have a yard, and most of their friends aren't military. The privacy is also nice. But I do feel isolated—there aren't a ton of Army spouses to interact with. When I go grocery shopping, I never run into soldiers in uniform. And the wives I have met are basically 10 years younger than me. None of their husbands have been deployed before, and my kids are a lot older than their kids. We just don't have a lot to connect us.

At Fort Drum, in New York, where we lived at first, we were a family. The wives did everything together. We talked on a daily basis, and if we didn't hear from our husbands, we'd call each other. I still call my Fort Drum friends when I need someone to talk to. Roy and I have a lifelong bond with the friends we've made in the military. They understand me more than friends from school, more than family. I don't know if I'd be as strong as I am without them.

And as corny as it sounds, I get a lot of support from Roy. He calls as much as he can and always tells me what a great job I'm doing. The Army has forced us to have a strong foundation. My support also comes from my daughters. We know that it's going to take the four of us to get through it.

The second I know Roy's landed in Iraq, I go into freak mode. My computer runs 24/7 when Roy is gone because I don't want to miss him if he's online. The first thing I do every morning when I wake up is check my computer to see if anything happened overnight. I don't leave the house unless I forward my home phone calls to my cell phone. And if I can only talk to him for five minutes and know that he's okay, it's worth it because I worry that I'll miss that moment and never have it again.

I want to be normal again—more than anything else. But it's scary to go back to that because we are a part of something that's bigger. The Army provides for you; they help you move; they give you housing assistance and insurance. It's like a security blanket. To walk away from that lifestyle is very conflicting. Yes, someone can knock on my door and blow my world apart. But when Roy's not deployed, it's a good job. And we have so much time invested, and what was all that time apart for? To leave and get no retirement benefits, not anything? Roy loves being a soldier, and I don't want to take that away from him.

But sometimes there are those moments when I don't know what to do. How am I supposed to look at my kids all the time and stay strong? Normal people don't understand that. Unless you're a military spouse, you never will. You get that call saying someone has been killed or injured in your husband's company. And you're always scared that someone is going to knock on your door to tell you something has happened to your husband. I always say I just won't answer the door if I see that coming.

"I refer to the guys who are deployed as 'our guys.' Then I feel guilty because Luis is here."

JESSICA VILLALOBOS, 25

ELGIN, IL

My husband, Luis, is a 24-year-old sergeant in the Chicago Recruiting Battalion. We got married right after high school, and he joined the Army soon after that in 2001, and served two tours in Iraq. When Luis got orders to be a recruiter in August 2006, he had the option of turning it down. But if he did, he might have been deployed to Iraq again. And the Army really needs recruiters right now, so if you don't take the assignment, you won't get promotions in the future.

Luis was hesitant. He didn't know if he would like recruiting—he liked being a real soldier. But I couldn't go through another deployment, especially if we were going to start a family. So Luis took the assignment and we moved back to Elgin, IL, our hometown. Our first child, Adrian, was born on May 2.

When we left Illinois four years ago, we were bubbly little kids. Now, I feel so much older. My friends are still single and going clubbing. We're married, and we have a child. And we've been through so much already.

Sometimes I feel like I'm a civilian again. There is no post here. There are no military wives to remind me that we're still in the Army. When I lived on base, I got to vent to the other wives. If I felt scared or sad, I had people to talk to who understood. No matter what I tell my friends here of my experience, they still don't know.

Sometimes I'll talk to one of the Army wives, and I'll refer to the guys who are deployed as "our guys" because Luis was a part of it. And then I feel guilty because it's not "our guys"; Luis is here. I also feel guilty when I complain about his hours—Luis starts at 9 a.m. and comes home around 8 p.m.—because I don't know if that's rubbing it in. So I don't talk to the wives too much. I rely on my family for support.

When Luis is out recruiting, he's in uniform, and people assume he's going to Iraq or is just home. They thank him and want to buy him a drink. But the second he calls someone's house to recruit, the parents treat him like he's a drug dealer. Sometimes they hang up on him. I ask Luis not to recruit when I'm with him. I think of that person ending up in Iraq; I know what can happen. This May, our friend Sergeant Steve Packer was killed. So I don't want to be part of that conversation. I try not to think of what he does too much. He told me about one guy who was gung ho about going to Iraq and I thought, Wow, there are still people out there who actually want to go?

No matter how many hours Luis works each day, he's going to come home at night. And he can see Adrian grow up. I didn't want there to ever be a day when Luis came back from deployment and Adrian didn't willingly go to him because he didn't know who he was.

If Luis didn't join the Army, he would've gone to college. This is a good life right now where we can travel and not worry about money. But Luis does still want to go to college. I look forward to that day, when he's out and I won't have to worry about him getting called up.

"We wore name tags that listed who we had lost, so as soon as I found out who someone was, we'd hug and cry in each other's arms."

CHARLOTTE FREEMAN, 31

TEMECULA, CA

My husband, Brian, captain of the 412th Civil Affairs Battalion, was killed in Iraq in January. He was 31. Brian had been finished with his active duty, and we'd been living as civilians for a couple of years, but last year in April, he was called up as part of the Individual Ready Reserve program.

When we first got together four years ago, Brian was in his last year of active duty, so I never thought of myself as a military wife. I never lived on base, and I was never surrounded by that whole lifestyle.

I told Brian we were so lucky because we had the picture-perfect family. We had a boy first—Gunnar, who's 3 now—and then a girl, Ingrid, 1. I was able to stay home. It was the life that I always wanted to have.

When Brian was called up last April, we had to go on base and get military ID cards and get a sticker on our car to let us on base. That was my first realization that things were going to change. But I still pretty much remained the same as before. I didn't look for support groups or other military wives. I just relied on the friends I already had and my family. I thought that he would come back home, and then everything would be the same, so I tried to keep it the same. Maybe I was in denial. I didn't accept the fact that he was a soldier.

My identity changed when he was killed. The people in the Army have told us that we'll always be a military family, and I believe them. They've been very involved in our lives, and I've learned a lot more about the military since he died.

I've gotten to know more military widows. Most of them are a year or more past my situation, so they had a lot of insight into what I was going through and what I will go through. We talk about our children and compare notes. Gunnar was always an easy child, but when Brian left, he became angry and yelled a lot. Now he's slowly going back to the little boy I remember. He's still sad, but he's also very proud of his dad for being a soldier.

The week before Memorial Day, we went out to Fort Bragg, in North Carolina, where they had a ceremony for the soldiers who died. Three of them were good friends of Brian's, and meeting their families was great. We had name tags on that listed who we had lost, so as soon as I found out who someone was, we would immediately hug and cry in each other's arms. I had breakdowns in front of complete strangers. That whole experience made me feel very much military. It made me feel included, like there was a community and a family. I got a sense of what the soldiers must feel when they are together.

It's unfortunate that it took something like this to bring me into that culture. But now I have a different appreciation for the military and understand the sacrifices. People outside the military think they understand, but they really don't.

I've been really busy with Gift of Life, an international charity that helps children with life-threatening heart conditions. Before Brian was killed, he worked with Gift of Life to help arrange for an Iraqi police officer's son to get heart surgery in New York. Now I speak about what happened to Brian and encourage other people to give something back the way Brian did. It's been healing for me to pull something positive out of this situation.

There's still a part of me that doesn't accept that he's not coming back. I still wear my wedding ring. I still look to him for guidance. I think, What would Brian do?

Gunnar says he wants to be a soldier, too. That scares me. But Brian always said that one of his kids would go to West Point—he was a West Point graduate—and he made me promise that I wouldn't discourage it. Brian would sometimes bring up the possibility that he might not come back, so I knew what he wanted for the kids and everything else if he didn't come home. Now I understand even more the commitment and dedication Brian had to his country. He didn't support the way the war was going, but he was still committed to serving. Brian really loved the military, the brotherhood. He got that, and I get it now, too.

As one of the stars of Lifetime's new hit drama Army Wives, Kim Delaney has gotten a glimpse of what it's like to be married to the military. She's learned it from those who live that life every day.

What intrigued you about Army Wives?

When I read Under the Sabers: The Unwritten Code of Army Wives by Tanya Biank [the book on which the series is based], I couldn't put it down. It's funny; it's romantic; it's tragic. The characters are all human. The great part is that everyone's got different things going on, but we all need each other. And that's life. Nobody does this alone. How did you tap into your role?

We met a group of Army wives through Operation Homefront [a nonprofit organization that provides support to troops and their families]. We had a spa day where we spent time with the women. You also just run into people—from my taxi driver, who just did three tours, to a woman sitting beside me on the plane. The girl who does props for our show—she has someone over there. My business manager's boyfriend is there. And people want to talk. They have a lot to tell you.

What have you learned that's surprised you?

The biggest thing is how the spouses here really are like single parents. And how difficult it is. It's like we have heroes there and heroes at home who are keeping it together. And they really do take each other's back. It's inspiring to see that.

The first season of Army Wives wraps up this month. Go to lifetimetv.com/shows/armywives for blogs of real-life Army wives and to watch a short film about the spa day the cast hosted.